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Past Away

*TRIGGER WARNING. This post contains an account of sexual abuse and could make some readers uneasy.

Redemption has always been built upon tragedy and ruin – it is linked to our past and if we are to be redeemed at all, we must never ignore it.

I rode my bike tonight – first ride of the year. I wore a pair of camo army fatigues that belonged to my late brother who passed away on June 14th, 1992. It seems odd that it has been almost twenty two years since I’ve seen him.

A few pieces of his clothing and the flag that blanketed his coffin were all that was left behind it seemed. But there were other things as well – an unborn child for one, as well as the pain from what had happened to us as children.

He took his pain with him and he would certainly rest in peace, for which I was so grateful. But my pain would continue to live inside me while I carried it around for nearly two decades.

But why the fatigues? I mean, who wears a dead man’s clothes?

I wore his cloths because tonight, my brother, Tim, needed to be…alive.

Before I hopped on my bike, Tim’s daughter, Ashley, who was born just seven months after he passed away, called to tell me that her sweet boyfriend had popped the question and they were getting married. I am excited for them immensely. I know my brother would be so proud, and I know they are going to have a wonderful life together.

As soon as our call ended, I thought of Tim. How could I not?

Someone will walk his daughter down the aisle, though I wish I could exhume his grave so that he could do it himself, so that he could be there for her. If he was able to have one more day in the living I’m sure his daughter’s wedding would be the day he would choose. Though I would only want him back for that one day, because life was never easy on him.

There is a backstory for us all just as there was for Tim. Growing up under the same roof, our stories were mostly the same on paper. But as we flipped through the pages of our lives, moving into the back half of the book, two roads diverged in the wilderness. Mine headed for the dusk, then darkness, but would eventually find the morning sun, while his grew only darker until it reached a dead end where he could no longer move forward.

Our former stepfather was a sexual predator and brought his stink into our home when we were less than five. What he did to Tim, Tim did to me. We were exceptional secret keepers until our secrets caved in on us like a house of cards.

“I won’t talk about this with you,” he told me one night in college when I thought it was time to face the truth of what had happened. “I’m not kidding. Don’t ever bring it up to me again.”

Six months later he was gone.

I stared at him in his casket. I was twenty one years old at the time. I knew every inch of him…brothers, lovers, secret keepers. He was gone and had taken our secrets with him, it seemed, so I didn’t know what to do with our story.

He took his pain, he took his fear, and all the shame that had come in his twenty three powerful years. Most of his demons had gone to the grave with him, though I carried a few of them around in his absence. And for years, they worked me over in silence.

I would marry, have children, become an alcoholic, try to cope, fail miserably, and finally…

…decide to talk.

Bad therapist number one was scarred himself – he never told me this but he wore his pain just beneath the surface of his skin. It takes one to know one and I recognized him the second I stepped into his musty gray office.

“The past is past. Let it go,” he told me. But you couldn’t have pried it out of my hands. It simply wasn’t time.

Ten years later, it was time.

“I’m telling you everything,” I said to therapist number two. “Let me know if you can’t handle it and I’ll find someone else, because I can’t carry this load any longer.”

Three years. Stories told, tears shed, memories unearthed, secrets whispered, the past, the present, the lies, the truth, the hate, the love, the broken, the mended.

Therapist number two heard it all. But he never told me to let it go. He never told me to put the past away.

I am now well aware that I never will put the past away.

It is who I am. It’s who we all are.

I cannot start over by changing the introduction of my story. Where I began will always be the beginning for me – my beginning. And it’s going to be okay. I will be just fine, maybe more than fine.

The expectation that one day we might be made new is a resentment in its first trimester. And if we’re not careful, eventually we’ll take a few cleansing breaths and give birth to that resentment, pushing it right into our spirits. We can certainly REnew our minds, and surely our souls can breathe in fresh air, but how our lives started, where our story began, is and always will be…back there. Our memories do not exist in the past – they live in the present…with us… and they always will.

My beginning in life, the opening to the story of WHO I AM, must be welcomed into the present. It is only when we acknowledge and understand what happened, that our pain can become a beautiful scar that others will want to see and touch and hear about.

And they will.

One day they will sit at our feet, run their fingers over each one and want to know what atrocity befell us that had only enough power to form itself into this small piece of damaged skin – this puffy line that is only a small island in the vast ocean of our greater purpose and story – this place where our pain has been marooned, but not our purpose, and never our redemption.

“Uncle Matt, will you marry us?” Ashley asks, beaming from the other side of the phone. “I want you to marry us.”

After we got off the phone I put on my brother’s camo fatigues and rode my bike through desolate spring cornfields, knowing that in only a few months these empty fields would be redeemed and filled with life…same as me.

“I will,” I had told her. And I told her how proud I was. I told her I would do whatever I could to make her day wonderful.

This day was twenty two years in the making. I’ve carried around my broken brother for so long, so often burdened that his life was what it was. But today I could hear his voice on the other end of the phone – and in it the hope of second chances. I was able to release the future that he never had into his daughter’s life, trusting, hoping and believing that she will make something beautiful of it. In fact, she already has.

Our life before this moment is over and gone, but the past is still there, seeking to avenge itself.

We fear the memories will pull us in completely if we tip our hats to them – that they will overtake us and we’ll live their reality over and over, perhaps forever. But it is only when we pretend it didn’t happen (or didn’t matter) that we are truly living in the past. If we honor the past by accepting that it is a part of who we are, the day of reckoning that we have waited so long for, will surely come to us.

Redemption IS built upon tragedy and ruin – it IS linked to our past, so we cannot ignore it. Yes, the old has passed away, but we can never put the past away.

Thank you for sharing this with all of us Matt. I read your book about a year ago and gained a lot of respect for you, but this story is really powerful.
Thank you for being the man you are and for bringing your beautiful family to Carmel.

Matt,
You continue to amaze me with your
thoughts, many extremely painful, that you so eloquently put down in words. Your courage is astounding! Thank you for sharing “you” with us and for being the most AMAZING worship leader evaaaa! God bless you and all you do!

Matt,
What a vision of health and healing. I never knew your story. Thank you for sharing and for being so raw and real. The truth is so powerful and empowering. Stand in your truth and shake things up! You’re doing it!!!

It’s amazing how when we are in the midst of trials its so hard to believe anything good can come from it. You being “real” and sharing your “story” is helping so many deal with theirs. Though they might not be the same, a “story” just the same.

Don’t really know what to say. Wow. Thank you. You have intersected my life in a profound way today. Thank you for your courage, determination and honesty. Truth is powerful. God has used you today to break out a hole in the ceiling. Light is shining in. Thanks.

Thank you for providing light and a redemptive voice of hope for those of us who know the all-consuming darkness of these unspoken scars. Your story of redemption that does not negate the past but embraces it so that life can be cultivated out of the ruins is one that we all need to hear and embrace. May God bless your ministry of setting the captives free from silence.

Matt, thank you for being, raw, authentic, real, true, loving, giving, supportive and forgiving. You are an amazing man, worship pastor, husband, father and friend! Courageous!
We will praise Him in the storms…
Cathy

Thank you, Matt, for sharing your story. I’ve never written mine down, and hope I can allow the painful, awful truth in my own past to reveal the suffering, present, honest hope the way you have. It’s so comforting to know there is a fellowship of wounded healers out there, and our paths are interconnected in wonderful ways.

You and your story give me hope. I too have over come and still over coming my abuse. I have talked about my past and I had over come it. Some days it sneaks back in and I remember every detail of those aweful nights. I was ok with my past and accepted it and know there is nothing I can change. Now I have two boys of my own and my past comes back to haunt me, but I know I must be so strong for them. To be able to show them bad things happen, but great people can come from it. Thank you for giving me another light at the end to look for!

I appreciate your words, Sarah…and we MUST HAVE HELP…WE CANNOT DO IT ALONE. Counseling, recovery groups and educating ourselves is all a part of it. What happened to is was trauma emotionally and physically. If we had diabetes we would go to the doctor. Time heals all wounds…no, it’s not true. Digging, owning, feeling and reliving…this will always up our chances of getting well.

Matt, though you would never have written it for this reason and probably don’t even want to here it, a post like this is heroic. Heroic, in that others who have suffered similar crises in their lives (and there are so many silent thousands) can be encouraged. Heroic, in that it shows a man who is strong and talented with an amazing blessing of a family still faces dark battles,…we all face these battles, just on different fields of war. It makes me proud to be your friend, proud to have you as my worship pastor, and honored to have been helped through the seemingly endless black hole of my own divorce by you. God can re-illuminate that which has been snuffed out like a candle dropped in an ocean,…..somehow he brought light back to my life, and he used you as one of the lamps,…..you’ve just written another “lamp” my friend.

Matt,
Thank you for sharing this powerful part of your story. I have found in my own story that in a moment of impact or trauma it can be it can be difficult to recall exact details, perhaps the brain’s mechanism for shutting off pain or something else, whereas two people may never see the same incident from the same point of view. We cannot change what happened to us in the past, but we can change our perspective of it and we can overcome it by forgiving not only others around us but also ourselves. I think that is when we truly move on and move towards redemption.

Nice work. I think you could add that “your past is NOT who you are anymore.” Your life is the opposite of your past, after years of grueling work and thousands of dollars in therapy. Your courage and soul are an inspiration.

Hi Matt ,
I enjoyed reading about your life journey. We have to go through the valleys to appreciate the mountain tops. God allows us to go through tough times to make us stronger, more compassionate and caring toward others that may be going through similar situations. It had to take a lot of courage to ” spill your guts ” but you must certainly feel lighter in your soul.
Hope all is going well for you and your family.
God Bless,
Dianne

Thanks for sharing Matt. Unfortunately, I can relate to your story, so I understand the struggles. I totally agree that we create a self-imposed prison in our silence. In order to heal, we need to open up the wound, clean it out, and then let the wound change into a scar. It will fade but will always be a part of us. THANK-YOU for your courage and vulnerability to share your powerful story. Speaking truth unlocks the prison doors!

Matt, you are awesome! I’m so proud to be your sister. I love you!! This reminded me of a dream I had once…Jesus came to my house and I took him to every room and showed him how clean and pretty my house was and He went with me and listened and loved me…He looked over at a door that was closed and asked me to take Him in there. I replied “no Jesus that is my living room and it’s a mess, I’m not taking you in there, you won’t like it.” Jesus came in and sat down with me in my really clean room but all the while looking at the door to my messy room, but He was patient and loving never pushing me to take Him to my dirty room. Eventually, I got the nerve to tell Him about my room and He said “Trina take me there, take me where you live.” So I got up and took Him to my dirty filthy secret room that no one ever sees and He was not horrified..instead He looked at me with such love and compassion and said “I’ll help you clean this up” I will never forget this dream…it could not be clearer to me what Jesus wants from us…no dream interpreter needed 🙂

I have learned that sharing my story with friends (and others) has made the healing process even possible. I find it to be a challenge, however, after I’ve shared something on FB or through my blog – when someone I barely know comes up to me with tears – and shares that they understand my pain. With your huge following, I’m sure you get that all the time. It’s good to know, yet it’s difficult. Thanks for your willingness to share with everyone. Will pray for continued strength and courage to do so!

We fear the memories will pull us in completely if we tip our hats to them – that they will overtake us and we’ll live their reality over and over, perhaps forever. But it is only when we pretend it didn’t happen (or didn’t matter) that we are truly living in the past. If we honor the past by accepting that it is a part of who we are, the day of reckoning that we have waited so long for, will surely come to us….

There is an artist named Sia. She sings this song called Chandelier. The little girl is frantic and fighting during the song. I have watched it 2 times. It hits a nerve so deep…a pain so wide that before I was in recovery I had to push it down with drugs and alcohol. Then in recovery because I never dealt with the past another acting out phase occured. And this happend has a christian…who fell apart. Walked away (or so I thought) any way. Thank you for the real. I dont like it at the moment but need it…

Thank u Matt for sharing this with us. Jesus is our best friend and he is always there for us to talk to and he knows our pain. My brother took his own life at age 30. To this day the pain is still there. Our family from that day got closer and brought us to even closer to The Lord. Seven yrs later my younger brother died in a semi accident and later my sister from breast cancer. My mother was the monarch of our family and with her faith and strength she lived to be 90 yrs old. She kept the faith. As I am sitting here sharing this with you tears are running down my face. As you said it s good to talk about our pain to other people. God Bless

[…] in my brother’s…and in my sister’s. The story of the brokenness between my brother and I (HERE) is the kind of stuff most people take to their grave, which he did. He never spoke a word of it. He […]